


The Outside Observer [Rewrite]

by quicksylver28



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Casual Sex, Frenemies, Gaslighting, Humor, Molly Weasley Bashing, Multi, Prompt Fic, Rivals, Ron Weasley Bashing, Slytherins Being Slytherins, The Golden Trio, well kinda...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:07:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25576294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quicksylver28/pseuds/quicksylver28
Summary: PROMPT:Jo Jandrok posted in MHQ*slaps the buzzer* Okay, if Draco Malfoy was Hermione Granger's gay best friend, there is no way on this green earth he would EVER let her marry Ronald Fucking Weasley. Just.... no.Then Alison Muratore commented:I feel like even if Draco was her arch-nemesis, he’d have concerns (albeit possibly in private) about her marrying Ron. Like, NO ONE thinks it’s a good idea.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Blaise Zabini, Draco Malfoy/Pansy Parkinson
Comments: 15
Kudos: 226





	The Outside Observer [Rewrite]

**Author's Note:**

> ok... i'm supposed to be writing Rough Trade but this plot bunny just came up and bit me in the ass. Hermione is Hermione for all her faults but ending up with Ron was just a fucking tragedy.
> 
> \------------------------- 
> 
> EDIT: i was in such a rush to write and post this the first time that when i went back to read it the other day, i got the inspiration to give it a go over. I fleshed out some stuff and took a out a few problematic lines. 
> 
> I haven't written anything in a while and doing this gave me a lot of joy. it makes me want to work on other projects and that's always good. Hope this one flows better and is as enjoyable to read as it was to write.
> 
> wow. doubled the word count too. lolz.

Pansy was the first to bring the matter to Draco's attention. A throw away conversation while they'd been wrapping up the last of a lazy Sunday breakfast in the great hall. 

They'd been lounging around their end of the Slytherin table, the remnants of a deluxe spread strewn between scattered copies of the Daily Prophet, last minute homework notes and the latest issues of both wizarding and muggle fashion magazines.

Suddenly, the sleepy quiet of the hall had been broken by the usual Weasley/Granger dust up and it had eyes rolling across all four tables. Even the few sleepy professors slumped around the head table barely looked up from their morning tea.

As par for the course, the ginger knobhead had been whinging piteously as the frizzy headed ninny spat caustic vitrol at his thick skull. Scarhead just sat between them, a ditzy yet beleaguered look on his face; a half-eaten slice of buttered toast hanging limply from his mouth. 

Draco had been blithely ignoring them as was his usual want, it was just too fucking early on a Sunday to deal with such gryffindork melodrama. Especially when it involved the Boy-Who-Lived-to-b-a-Dramatic-Git and his bell-ended toadies. 

Pansy was draped on his shoulder in that sex kitten way of hers, absently swirling the last of her coffee in her cup as she calmly watched the cacophony that swirled around the lion house's table with hooded eyes. She smelled like Chanel No. 5 and her sunny blonde curls tickled the shell of his ear as she leaned in closer.

"Ten galleons they get married right after graduation and have a gaggle of red headed chav." 

Her voice was a dusky bedroom 'comefuckme' drawl that really had no place at a breakfast table. Draco frowned at the gouge he'd just made in his breakfast roll with his butter knife and gave her a flat stare.

She just smirked in his face, the slag, and shifted in a bit closer; the side of her breast pressing against his arm through her cashmere jumper. Both were soft to the touch and he'd had enough experience in putting his hands on both. That was an invitation if he ever saw one and nodded slightly in response. Pansy always loved a bit of a casual romp on a Sunday afternoon and Draco was always down for some 'no strings attached' stress relief. 

They may have had that moronic betrothal hanging over their heads come graduation time but that didn't mean that they couldn't have fun until they could figure out how to legally wriggle out of it and still keep their inheritances. Or work out some kind of agreement between them if they had to face the music. 

Blaise scoffed around a mouthful eggs, his grown out hair curling adorably around his ears and sharp jaw and falling into his silver blue eyes. "Sucker bet. Just look at Molly Weasley. Want to see the kids future? Look at the parents."

"And the father?" Pansy hummed thoughtfully, snagging a grape from Draco's plate and chuckling when he all but growled out of the side of his mouth at her like the beast he was named for, his arms curling around his plate. 

Blaise's curls twitched as he rolled his eyes. "Oh Please. Daddy Weaselby in nothing but a muppet for his harridan of a wife and our ickle Ronniekins is already showing the signs of being just like his Mommy Dearest." 

Theo nodded from Draco's other side from beneath half lidded eyes, half buried in a giant mug of steaming hot coffee. "That skiver's been gaslighting her ever since he realized that he could ride hers and Potter's coat tails to a cushy fame and fortune. Probably ben groomed for it by the mother. Wouldn't be surprised with how he was all but scouring the train for Potter that first year. A Prewitt niffling, money grubber if I ever saw one. Blood always runs true as they say."

Draco frowned, contemplating the slice of sausage speared on his fork. He ran it through his runny yolk then ate it, chewing thoughtfully. "Weren't the Prewitt twins famous as Dumbledore's noble and valiant hit wizards or something."

"They're were the exception to the rule. The rest of the line were hustlers and carpet baggers all. My great grandmatr went to Hogwarts together with their great aunt and they tagged her as a gold digging shrew even before she stepped off the train. Imagine teaching your eleven year old child to be a honey trap. Disgraceful. The lot of them."

Nott scoffed, grabbing a strip of crispy bacon and crunching into it. 

"Ended up getting pregnant in fourth year to a plonker seventh year whose family was loaded. One of those muggleborn Nouveaux Riche with more money than sense. They hushed it all up with a vault full of gold. He graduated and was quickly packed off to America to apprentice and she was sent home due to 'emotional distress' and home-schooled from then on. They passed the babe off as her sister and she eventually ended up netting one of the spare Glasforths as a husband." 

"Guess that's where all the virility comes from…" Pansy slyly purred, one eyebrow raised as she tapped a shiny green fingernail against the rim of her cup, "Those Glassforths were always popping out a few too many spare heirs. No wonder their coat of arms is the rabbit."

"Merlin, Nott." Blaise blinked at the dirty blonde, the last of his eggs falling off his fork as he held it halfway to his mouth. "How the fuck do you even know all of that?"

"Old women gossip." Theo shrugged. "… and no old women gossip more than my Grandmatr and her book club cronies. It's like listening to a drama on the wizarding wireless but the characters are people you know in real life. And no one ever talks about the fucking books." 

"Circe's tits. That's fucking terrifying." Blaise breathed and, after a moment at staring at the other teen, finally turned back to his now cold eggs. He glanced at Theo out of the corner of his narrowed eyes. "Can I even ask…"

"No can do. What happens in book club stays in book club. They made me swear an oath. Sorry not sorry."

Almost every Slytherin in hearing distance gave a collective sigh. Thank fuck for that. Grandmatr Nott was long-time friends with some of the oldest and most Matriarchs in the country and the amount of information they probably had on wizarding gentry would probably be enough to dismantle the entire of Wizarding Britain with just a few placed words whispered in eager ears.

Still, Theo hadn't mentioned anything about the Ladies being under oath. Only him. So that sigh of relief was most assuredly a premature one. And then there was the fact that the blonde in question had just indeed dished out of the very gossip he'd sworn an 'oath' not to do. 

Draco quirked an eyebrow at that thought but said nothing, steadily working his way through his full English breakfast. He wasn't too worried the old crone intelligence network. Lucius most likely had his own copious files hoarded somewhere as well. If something ever came out that would somehow destroy or disgrace the Malfoy Family, no doubt those sensitive files would be released in the most effective, efficient and devastating way possible.

Mutually Assured Destruction, Lucius had called it once; aka - 'if I go down, you go down with me'. The both of them had sharing some after dinner brandy in front of the fire place on cold winter's night. The liquor had burned his throat and warmed his gut , his father's voice sibilant and low as the logs cracked and split in the fire place. They had talked late into the night and it had been one of the better memories he'd had with his father in recent years .

Though he didn’t really care too much about gossip dealing with the weaselboy, other than to hold whatever salacious titbit over his carrot head with the appropriate amount of scorn and disdain, he still listened intently. Information was advantage after all.

"History lesson and collective heart attack aside, thanks Nott." Astoria Greengrass leaned in with a vicious little snicker. "Double or nothing Granger becomes the next Graciella Marshbottom before it's all said and done."

Several Slytherins chuckled darkly at that. Every pure blood worth their salt knew the tragic story of Graciella Marshbottom . A pure blood witch so twisted around by her abusive husband until she couldn't even go to the bathroom without his express permission. He'd so systematically and relentlessly ground her down with verbal, mental and emotional abuse that she'd been a shell of her vivacious young self by the time she was barely thirty.

It had all come to a head one night when she'd snapped completely and brutally hacked him to death in their marriage bed with an actual fucking cleaver. She'd banished different pieces of his mangled corpse all over the country, in fact some people were still finding items such as small as bits of bloodied teeth still attached to a fragment of jaw more than a decade later.

Her solicitors had pled insanity before Winzenagmot and she'd lived out the rest of her days in an asylum/ family house in the countryside.

It was a cautionary tale told to all pure bloods against marrying mudbloods and had been extolled by blood purists for years. Even the Dark Lord had used it as a scare tactic/ recruitment pitch in his first rise. Well, according to his father.

And though Draco derived a sick pleasure of picturing Weasely sliced, diced and served up on a platter; the thought of any witch, even Granger, meeting such a pitiful end; made him uncomfortable.

As he wiped his fingers and lips on a crisp white napkin, Granger finally stormed out of the great hall, leaving Weaslfuck complaining at the table while Pottyface looked like he'd been kissed by a dementor when no one had been looking. Even the rest of the tables around them looked utterly fed up. 

Still, the thought got stuck in his head.

It wasn’t that he liked Granger. In fact, he thought she was stuck up and a mudblood and, merlin dammit, he was acutely jealous of her intelligence. She was his accedemic rival in class ranking, both of them fighting bitterly and savagely for the top spot each year. 

But the rivalry wasn't as bitter with her as it was with Harry bloody Potter. That particular enmity was a matter of principle. No matter what this father said, Draco saw Granger as an equal, even if only from an academic standpoint.

She was smart and clever and stood defiantly against every bit of propaganda that purebloods tried to push about muggleborn. Going up against her made him think, push himself, challenge himself. She made him, through sheer spite alone, surpass even his own expectations.

Rivals like that didn’t come along every day and Draco was already looking forward to many years of crossing mental swords with the witch in the future. God, what they could do at the Ministry. He couldn't wait. 

He looked forward to their mental spars almost as much as he looked forward to crossing verbal ones with Potter, if only the boy didn't persist in being so fucking problematic.

Still, the situation bore further observation.

He kept an eye out after that, in between living his own life and his studies of course; jotting down his theories, observations and conclusions in one of his spare potions research journals.

Covertly watching the interactions of the golden trio in class, in the halls, at meals and even in the library. Ruthlessly eavesdropping on their conversations whenever within earshot and listening to gossip strewn through the Hogwarts bountiful grapevine. 

Granted, putting aside both his Slytherin and pureblood bias had proved extremely difficult but he'd long learned from his Godfather the harsh consequences of working with tainted data. He still had the potions burns to prove it. Therefore, after more than a month of ruthlessly objective investigation and examination, he reached a distinct, certain and cold conclusion. 

Ronald Billius Weasley was poison.

A spiteful, jealous, vain, petty shit stain of a human being who used his red hair and family reputation as a veneer over his ugliness as a human being. He was squarely on the end of the spectrum where his arrogance was seen as bravery, his ruthlessness seen as tactical genius. 

Draco could have easily seen him in Slytherin if the very thought of that red hair against his belove silver and green didn't make him want to hurl. He had the same underlying menace that Draco had seen in Gilcress McLaren and some other seventh years hungry to graduate and get the dark mark. It had been disconcerting to see such concerning behaviour all but countered by everyone's built in expectation on 'what a proper Weasley should be.'

Truth be told, the other Weasley childer had gone a long way in building that stunning reputation brick by brick, stone by stone. William, the Weasley Scion, was an accomplished Curse Breaker and worked for Gringott's, a rare feat indeed. 

Charlus, the Hogwarts Quiddtich hero with his badass scars and his work in Romania with Draco's namesake. The twins, Gred and Forge, terrors as they were, were also potions geniuses and spell architects, much his god father's constant lamentation. 

Percival was a bit twat but he was smart as a whip and had been the most impartial Head Boy to the snake house in years and had often let Draco go without so much as a lecture when he caught returning to the dorms after curfew because he'd been studying or brewing.

Even the feisty little hellcat of a sister, Ginerva, had some major credit to her name. Her Bat Boogie Hex was a disgusting bit of genius and she was a fucking champion for surviving the young Riddle spectre and the whole Chamber of Secrets debacle. Just hearing tell of it still gave him nightmares of going through what she did that year.

It also made something fragile inside him twist and hurt to acknowledge the role his own father had played in fucking orchestrating that shit. There was still a lot of conflicted feelings he had to untangle about his family and would most likely take a lifetime and a half to sort through that gordian knot.

Taking family into account, he did give Weasley some slack for being so unremarkable amongst such company but those points were soon rescinded by the fact that the lay lump refused to get off his dumpy duff and make something of what little sill he had. He hadn't even joined the small wizarding chess club some Hufflepuffs had set up. He also put the least amount of effort in training into Quidditch and complained constantly about everything from the practice times to the drills to the conditions of the brooms. 

Merlin, Theo had been right. The Weaselby was content in being dragged along by Potter's coat tails with Granger bracing him from behind, pushing him along. The least amount of effort for the most gain. Draco could almost admire the redhead's strategy if it didn't disgust him so. What a skiving little tosser.

He simmered on the information for a month, making annotations in the journal with every new observation and trying to decide just how he was actually going to utilize this knowledge. 

Fate took that decision from his hands one afternoon in one of the more deserted corridors.. Draco had been lounging in a secluded alcove, trying to breathe through a pounding headache, when he'd heard their voices. Weasley had been following Granger as she tried to respectfully disengage, berating her for concentrating too much on her extra projects and refusing to help with his. His lips curled in derision as he listened the redhead lay into the teenage witch, seething silence until the plonker finally stormed off in a huff. 

With his head pressed to the cold stone behind him, his eyes closed against the throbbing in his skull; he heard Granger's footsteps falter and stop, a soft sniffing echoing along the empty passageway. 

Oh fuck that shit. Draco had had enough. 

"Merlin, Granger. And here I thought you were smarter than this."

She whipped around with a gasp, her shoes grating against the stone floors, her wand no doubt out and pointed between his eyes. "Malfoy. What are you doing here? Are you spying on me?"

"First of all, I was here before you." His grey eyes slitted open as he winced at her volume. "Second, keep your voice down, you harpy. My head's splitting enough as it is without your shrieking."

"That doesn't…" she narrowed her eyes as his grimace and lowered her voice, wand still pointed at his chest. "That doesn't answer my question." 

He wanted to roll his eyes but that might just kill him at the moment. He settled for shrugging his shoulders minutely. "I'm just saying out loud what everyone else is thinking. And, frankly, we have all seen enough of this idiocy to be utterly fed the fuck up of this shit."

The wand did not move. "What are you even talking about Malfoy? This had better not be one of your sneaky Slytherin schemes."

"No sneaky schemes today, Ms. Not-So-Know-It-All." He blinked slowly at her. "Nice alliteration though. Two points."

The witch bristled. "Malfoy. I am so not in the mood for this. Get to the point or I will hex you."

"I'm talking about the fact that none of us can understand how such a bright witch be so fucking stupid? So much for 'the brightest witch of our age."

He gave a mirthless chuckle.

"I'm talking about how can you let that fucking wazzock treat you like some kind of serf at his beck and call. Nothing but a convenient door mat to wipe his filthy feet and do his bloody homework for him. He's utterly useless as a man and utterly worthless as a wizard. What the fuck do you even see in him?"

She sputtered in utter astonishment but he just went on.

"Are you so hard up for social acceptance that you'd latch on to that pillock and refuse to let go out of some misguided sense of Gryffindor loyalty. Or have you already put so much effort into the Weasel, hoping that he would turn into something worthwhile like his older siblings that you’d rather keep at it to your own detriment than just give it up and cut your losses." 

"You… you bastard." The witch before him flushed white, her hand clenched and trembling around her wand. He absently wondered if she really would hex him. Still, Draco pressed in for the kill. He was nothing if not clinical and dispassionate when he got caught up in his research. 

" Or is it because you're afraid that if you break up the infamous Golden Trio that your friendship with Potter would wither and break as well and you'd be left alone in the end?"

Shockingly, Granger looked on the verge of tears but he knew better than to think that they were tears of sorrow. There was too much fire in those eyes for that. He sighed internally. He had no intention in being the girl's therapist but her behaviour and motivations had also played a large role in the situations she'd found herself in.

He gave an inward sigh, his headache still going strong. He forced his jaw to relax as the throbbing moved to his left temple. He needed a potion and a few hours in quiet dark. Why the hell had he gotten himself involved in this in the first place?

Oh yes. Graciella Marshbottom.

"Where is that girl who stomped up to me and punched me in the fucking nose? The one who went looking for a basilisk in the halls with a bloody mirror? The one who helped Potter and Charlus Weasley smuggle Hagrid's fucking dragon out of the castle under the professor's noses?"

"You know about that?" she sputtered.

He smirked, "Filch likes to mutter to himself while he works. You'd be surprised what people have done to get detention with him and Mrs. Norris."

Granger's wand hand relaxed but she didn't lower it. "Don't try to change the subject. Just what the hell are you trying to get out of this?"

"Gryffindors. Ever direct." Draco sighed, tired of this already. "Look, Granger, you've changed… changing… " he admitted, arms and legs crossed as he lounged on the deep stone ledge. "… and not for the better." 

His ice grey eyes narrowed.

"Muggles say if you put a frog in cold water and gradually heat it up, it will stay there until it boils to death. That's what's happening here. You're losing yourself, bit by bit. You're slowly becoming Molly Weasley The Second and if you don’t stop now; you'll end up as nothing but a bossy harridan with a gaggle of squealing weasels until one day you'll go full crackers, kill your ginger waste of fucking space husband with a meat cleaver and get sent to a loony-bin and then where would that fucking leave me."

Granger shook her head. "Oh my God. I don't even know how to unpack that. What the fuck Malfoy?"

"I'm going to spell it out for you in simple terms because subtlety never works with you Gryffs." He huffed. "You're my bloody Nemesis, get it? Without you to compete against I wouldn't push myself as much as I do. I can't truly be the best if you're not there to fight me for every Morgana-damned scrap."

"You're kidding." she gave a little exasperated breath, looking around to see if anyone else was around to hear what he was saying. "Me? What about the epic rivalry between you and Harry?"

"Oh please. Scarface's only scholastic goal is get smart enough to survive to see graduation. And the Dark Lord is already his Nemesis. Magic only allows a witch or wizard to have one at a time." Draco rolled his eyes. "And don’t talk to me about anyone from Ravenclaw, you and I both know that we've surpassed that entire house long ago. It's you against me for the top spot and you know it. It's always been you against me."

Her brow wrinkled in deep thought. "Why does that Nemesis sound like it starts with a capital N?"

He shrugged and stood, stretching lazily. "My father was right. Hogwarts should have never dropped its Magical Traditions and Rituals Course. If a Library Hag like you doesn't know about 'Magical Nemeses' then I truly despair for the rest of this generation."

His head ache had ebbed to a low throb but the cool solace of his bed was beckoning him like a siren's call.

"Look, I don’t care if you believe me but the situation with the weasel is just about intolerable. He wants to dumb you down to be on his level and if he can't dumb you down, he will break you down. And that would be a real pity."

"You're right. I don’t believe you, this is a trick." she frowned at him once more, fingers tightening around her wand. "You're just trying to break us up for the Dark Lord."

Draco gave her a flat stare under lidded eyes, the throb in his skull blooming back into life. His lips quirked downwards on one side, his fingers tenderly massaging his temple and he breathed through the pain.

"Think what you want. I don't care anymore. All truth be told, it would be worse for you all in the long if I left things alone. Potter may even win but the magical world would have lost all that you would have brought to its future."

Granger looked taken aback at the words but Draco meant what he said. 

He took small journal out of his robe pocket and held it out to her. When she didn't take it from him for a long while, he sucked his teeth and tossed it at her feet.

"Sometimes when one is too close to a situation, the perspective of an outside observer may be what is needed. " he waved at the book. "Show it to Potter or not. Show it to the Weasel or not. I don't give a fuck. But read it, really think about it and be honest with yourself. And look up Graciella Marshbottom while you're at it." 

He turned to walk down the corridor before stopping and looking at her over his shoulder. She was standing in the empty corridor, looking oddly lost with a wand in her lax hand and a book at her feet.

"Just keep in mind, the water is warming up and if you don't jump out now, a little frog like you will be cooked before you know it."

He stumbled down to the dungeons and to bed, putting the whole thing out of his mind after that. Granger would either listen or not. Things would play out as they would. He'd done more than he was obligated to and it was out of his hands.

Exam fever hit hard and he didn’t have time to think about Granger's existential crises. He had to study his ass off if he wanted top spot again this year. He got lost in a haze of exams and came back to himself one sunny morning, head laying on Blaise's lap on the grass by the lake, talented hands running through his hair and massaging his scalp. 

"You back with us dragon?" the darker boy chuckled. 

The Slytherins sitting all around them laughed. They knew what a demon Draco became during test time. He just huffed and pressed his cheek into Blaise's thigh, enjoying the warm weather and the wicked fingers in his hair.

Blaise's hair fell around his ears and jaw, haloed by the afternoon sun. Merlin, he was beautiful. Draco wanted to kiss him in the moment but was too lazy and comfortable to move. He'd have to explore that possibility another time. Carefully though, as Blaise wasn't one for casual like Pansy was, especially with his black widow of a mother.

Draco found that he didn't mind the thought of a relationship. Blaise was interesting enough to keep him from getting bored, sexy as hell and had a tender side that loved to pamper and spoil those he cared for the most. 

And how Draco loved to be cared for and pampered. 

All noise around him came to a sudden, uncomfortable stop and he opened his eyes to see Granger standing a few meters away. It was entertaining watching her try to invite him to talk in private in the face of mounting hostility from the Slytherins around him. She seemed genuinely shocked that they would doubt her good intentions and it was hilarious to see her on the other side of that kind of suspicion. 

When she was just about red in the face and ready to give up, he decided to have pity on the witch and waved his friends' concerns aside, jumping up and deftly spelling the grass of his clothes. He'd hear her out if it meant having his nemesis back. They walked in silence for a while, stopping at a lonely stretch of lakeside and Granger, never one for idle blather, reached into her robes and pulled out the small journal.

He took it from her gingerly, examining the cracked spine and ink stains on the pages. A hand not his had scribbled notes in the blank spaces and drawn little doodles in the margins. He raised a brow at one that looked particularly like Potter, with little circles for glasses, the famous scar and a cloud of scribbles for his famously unruly hair. 

Granger flushed. "I showed Harry the book. He ended up agreeing with me. We… we tried to talk to Ron about it… well. … let's just say he's on probation."

The blonde chuckled. "Is he now? I hadn't noticed or I would have needled him about it."

"You, Mr. Outside Observer himself? Didn't notice?"

He gave her a flat look. "Yeah well that was before Exams. And that was for you. I couldn't care less if that ginger plonker fucked around in the lake and got eaten by the giant squid. He's not even worth noticing."

Granger just laughed. "I'll still say thank you, Draco Malfoy; even if it was for pure selfish reasons. Even though it hurt like hell to read what you wrote and not just fling the thing into the fire. Even though there were moments I outright detested you for being so cold it was almost cruel. I think I needed that shock. Desperately. I was too close… too deep… I needed something like that to knock everything loose."

She shook her bushy head sharply, cutting off the words that had turned more to rambling than conversation. She stared, unseeing, out unto the lake as it rippled around an enormous tentacle. "Anyway, you’ve still helped me. So thanks. " 

"Don’t mention it," He nodded sharply before pinning her with a stern look. "Seriously, don't ever mention this to anyone."

"I won't. Be assured of that." She turned her head and gave him a smirk.  
"You know. I am surprised that a consummate Slytherin like you didn't try to curry some kind of favour or payment out of this. I mean, it’s not like you would help me, a Gryffindor Muggleborn, out of the kindness of your heart. You didn't even try to extract a favour out of me or get one over Harry. You get nothing out of this."

"Who says I get nothing?" He quirked a pale blonde eyebrow at her. "You really don't know what having a Magical Nemesis does, do you? Well, I'm sure you'll find out soon enough. Who knows, you may just smart enough to truly grasp it."

Hermione tilted her head at him, something she almost always did when she was analysing something in her head. Hell, he could practically hear the dynamo firing up in that brain of hers. Her brown eyes cleared and brightened the moment things clicked into place. Good. It was a start. He'd made the right choice.

They were going to be glorious.

She perked up. "So... Rivals?" 

"Oh Yes. Bitter and eternal, I assure you." He grinned wickedly. 

She nodded succinctly, her smile curved mischievously as she held out her hand. 

"Good. Want to shake on it?"

"Not a fucking chance." He curled his lip and gave the appendage a look of utter upper class scorn. "I will allow you shake my hand when I take the top spot this year though."

"Oh please." She rolled her eyes at his dramatics and scoffed openly. "In your dreams, blondie. I'm taking top this year. I've aced both Arithmancy and Defence for sure."

"Fuck you mud…." he stopped himself with a clench of his jaw and exhaled sharply, meeting her brown eyes with his icy grey. "Fuck you Puff Ball. I've got Runes and Potions in the bag and I'm 93% sure I have Charms as well."

"Urgh. Who are you calling PuffBall? Gel helmet!" Granger took the olive branch for what it was, huffing indignantly as she shoved her hands into the pockets of her robes. "And what the hell was that last question in Charms? What was Flitwick even thinking?"

Draco let out a frustrated moan, throwing his head back as if in pain. "He must have been smoking Hooch's laced weed when he wrote that paper. There's no other way that entire cock up should have been allowed on a board sanctioned exam."

"Exactly, I have a mind to tell your father about this." 

Draco choked and almost tripped on a tree root, whipping his head over to stare at the bushy haired witch. Her mouth was quirked in an impish smile as she peered back at him guilelessly and he couldn't help but chortle a disbelieving laugh.

"Glad to have you back, Little Miss Know it all."

She gave him a grin. "Glad to be back, Ferret." 

Their bickering continued all the way back to the castle.


End file.
